Human After All
by Calico Yorki
Summary: Was it all a poetic tragedy? I think it was just sad and didn't have to happen. Rated T for possible future content, including Kokonoe's swearing, etc., etc.
1. Hollow

My name is Kokonoe, and by profession, I do terrible things.

I ususally like to think I'm less malicious than that monster of a man Relius Clover - And on the matter of those of you who wish to compare my amoral methods to that snake, _die._ But I will be the first to admit, I've done a wide variety of stupid, and at times, cruel things. We all do things we regret, but it's my lack of regret that tends to get me. I could bore you with the many nights I've woken up in cold sweats after a nightmare, and run down in my underwear to make sure nothing was wrong with my stockpile. However, like I said - It would surely bore you, save for the imagery of me running around half-naked. I know how people think. Hmph.

That's not what I'm worrying about now, though. No, no, not at all. Rather, I'm thinking about Lambda. She didn't deserve what happened to her. Not a bit. It's bad enough what those bastards who abandoned her did, I'm still not sure I should have ever sent her into battle in her state, but that's issues I regularly encounter. The thing is, it's just, it's - Oh goddammit, she didn't understand! She didn't know why it all happened, she didn't know why she had to suffer and die, and she'll never know how much I cared about her! I normally don't get so invested in these things, but Lambda was different. Have you ever read _To Kill a Mockingbird?_ It's just like Lambda; she was just like a mockingbird. She didn't want to hurt anyone, she would have been happy to do anything _but_ fight, she just wanted to find out what in the hell she was and what the hell was going on, but she barely got to live - To really, really live - Before she got killed.

I know that she wasn't alive like you or me. I know that very well. I understand that she was only ever intended to do battle, and that while she's dead, she might now finally be able to have some peace, and maybe even learn to understand what she is. That won't change how I feel, no matter how selfish of me it is. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. I want to stay in bed for days, just cry, and cry, and cry. Thing is, time goes on - And time is not on my side. I have to prepare for the time when all the pieces will be set out on the table, when the game is truly in action, and this clusterfuck of a looping war finally reaches its true battlefield. What I would give for that damned vampire's knowledge, and her ability to bear it all.

_Hours in the Past, but Not Many..._

After a few minutes of staring at Lambda's flatlined vitals, I've realized it's final.

She's dead.

For a while, I say nothing. Then, I scream, and throw a dusty old box of candy clear across the room. For a moment, I'm worried - I look, and in the same instant of relief that the box didn't bust open, a bubbling black spring of rage oozes up again. This time, it comprises entirely of self-loathing; an innocent creature with thoughts and feelings just died, because of _me_, and I'm worrying about a goddamned box of chocolates. I half-want to stomp the thing into the floor, but I realize that ruining a perfectly good gift from Litchi will do nothing more than feed into a later state of depression.

Once I've picked up the box, opened it up, and begun eating the Ferrero Rocher chocolates inside, my anger boils down and fades. Now, I just feel empty inside. The aching, gnawing emptiness of knowing I've done something terrible, and irreversible.

I don't know when I start crying, but by the time I have to close the box and set it on my shelf again, I have to clean the tears off of my glasses.

Thank God that Tager and Hakumen will be gone for the rest of the day.

_Returning to Present Time..._

Fingers steepled, elbows propped up before me on a rickety desk, I try to think of what I can do to take my mind off of this completely shitty disaster I've practically tailor made to occur. My thoughts are storming around inside my head, until I don't even register my surroundings.

Thus, I have to deal with the embarrassment of how high I jump at the hand on my shoulder.

I push my glasses back up my nose, glaring flatly at Rachel. "Apologies, Miss Kokonoe," she says in that soft, silky voice. Right now, that voice makes me want to bust her nose, but I know that trying that out would get me fried. So, I just sit there with my default scowl. "I am truly sorry for your loss. If you wish, I could leave this instant." Once again, I'm in two minds. Part of me wants nothing more than to cuss her right back to her damned castle. On the other hand, I know that somehow, she more likely than not understands this feeling very, very well. As her crimson orbs stare at me, I begin slowly.

In the process of talking, something in me quickly breaks. Words begin tumbling out of me, shaken and out of control. By the time it slows to a stop, my entire body is shivering quietly, and sweat slicks my brow. I stare at the floor, fingernails digging into my palms.

For a long, long while, Rachel watches me in silence. When she finally speaks, it almost fails to register. "Lambda-11 never blamed you. There's no reason to blame yourself, now."

Before I can speak, she's disappeared. I stare after for a while, then sink back into my seat.

That emptiness within has begun to feel somewhat less painful.


	2. Dark Side of the Moon

My name is Rachel Alucard, present head of the Alucard Family. It would be best to explain that I am among the highest order of nightwalkers; a vampire, bound to the night and by a thirst for the lifeblood of mortals. I should like to explain what has me in such a poor temper, but I feel that a preface is important to my part in this story.

Vampires are such an ancient race that neither I, nor even my wise, faithful servant Valkenhayn R. Hellsing can say for sure from whence they emerged, nor at what time in the distant reaches of history they first entered the night. Was there even a first vampire? Or can we trace our lineage from some unknowable entity, very different from what I myself am? I cannot pretend to know _all_ things there are in this odd world of ours; this does not mean that I cannot partake in theorizing and the occasional Socratic seminar, mind. Truth be told, were I to not have those rare intellectual meetings, drawing on the foggy reaches of Creation for my vampiric kin every once in a blue moon, I would likely go utterly stark raving mad.

...

Oh, do be sensible. I am allowed to make the occasional pun of the night, am I not? With my present emotional state, you should count yourself lucky I deigned to put up a front of benign humor at all. Those who do not appreciate good will are tend to find themselves abruptly wanting for kindness where there is none to be found. Yet, I suppose now, I am not being quite so civil as I expect of others. There is a reason for that, I assure you - yet I shall leave it up to you to discern whether or not said reason is valid.

I've just returned from a visit to Kokonoe. I said nothing on the matter, but her eyes were quite red, and her face was flushed. She'd been crying. The reason this has me disconcerted is that Kokonoe is not a woman who cries. Nor is she a woman of unconditional kindness - It took a great number of loops before I came across an iteration of hers who felt the desire, and had the capacity, for a reasonably civil conversation. She's callous, rude, foulmouthed, lewd, brilliant, strong, witty, and I will not lie when I say she's among the few mortals I admire. I wish I could wear my heart on my sleeves in her fiery manner; my life is dominated by a porcelain mask of etiquette and aloof disconnection.

I often find myself in want of a way to dash that mask on my castle's many empty halls.

Only Valkenhayn has ever seen me drop my guard, and even then, it's exceedingly rare. I have only permitted him to know my feelings, of wanting to tell Ragna that he's important to me, to tell Kokonoe I admire her so deeply, that I want my parents, anyone at all to tell me what I need to do to stop everyone from getting killed, over and over again, before my eyes. I know that Nago and Gii have frequently seen a single falling star of a tear vanish into an untouched cup of tea, when I've been forced to see another loop end in destruction. They never address this, and simply stay there by my side while I let my sorrow disperse. I'm too afraid of losing their respect, or perhaps fear, to tell them that they are truly precious to my heart.

Tonight, I've gone through the process of donning every layer of dress. I carefully tie the ribbons to secure my pigtails, in the midst of a careful brushing process. I don't care for just how much of my will to carry on is sustained by hollow rituals and icy masks. I'm hoping that I will find a distraction, tonight, from my constant tedium.

Perhaps I shall ensure that Kokonoe does not succumb to despair.


	3. The Cat's in her Cradle

It's been a long, shitty day, in a longer, shittier week. My shoulders are creaking with pain. My eyes are stinging. Everything sucks, is the long and short of it. Now that I've accepted Lambda's death and the role I've played, I've made my way back to my room, and collapsed in a heap onto my bed. For a few moments, this only escalates my aches and pains.

An awkwardly-laying, faintly-shaking wreck, for several minutes, I can't do a damned thing but look up at the featureless metal ceiling. When the pain has subsided a tiny bit, I find that I can be pissed to turn my TV on. I can't work without quiet, I can't rest without noise. I'm one walking goddamned contradiction, ain't I? For instance - I send a little girl with a trainwreck of an existence into battle, throwing all caution to the _fucking wind_, and then have the nerve to only regret my actions when she's gotten killed; alone and confused, but always so brave. She did everything I asked her to do, but I know that she was self-aware, and capable of disobeying orders.

To some extent, she _wanted_ to follow my orders to the letter. Why? Isn't a dog just so happy when it does a trick right the first time, and that makes its master happy? Isn't a child delighted when they can do their first task alone perfectly, and get the approval and praise of their parents? Lambda wanted approval - She wanted to _belong_. If I hadn't gotten my thong in a knot and practically kicked Lambda out into her mission, and actually spent some appreciable amount of time studying her emotional state, something might have gone differently, somehow. Now, I'm just lying in bed, emotionally shattered, aching from my head to my toes for the latest in a long line of worknights, watching the Kagutsuchi stock market on my TV in the gloom. I don't think I wanted to become a lauded scientist for this shit in particular, but in the words of the semi-ancient musician Jagger, you can't always get what you want.

"Yes, but I do recall that musician also said that 'Sometimes, you get what you need.'" My head knocks into the worn headboard at the sudden speaking. "My deepest apologies, Miss Kokonoe," Rachel says as I rub the top of my head, "I did not intend to startle you in any way." As I put my glasses back on, squinting in the dark, I see more figures in the room. Goddammit, she's brought her entire posse with her, and Valkenhayn's making my room into an impromptu tea party.

With a huff, I try to get comfortable again, before Valkenhayn's aged voice speaks up. "Lady Rachel, I have prepared a cup of chamomile tea, as per your instructions." He then walks right past her, and delicately wraps my throbbing fingers around the cup. "I know you don't much take to tea, Kokonoe, but I insist that you try this. It may just soothe you to sleep - We all can discuss matters in the morning." I want to argue, but I can't be pissed to, right now. So, I cave in record time, and carefully, slowly drink down the perfectly-warm tea. Once I've finished, Valkenhayn uses equal care to remove the cup from my grasp and whisk it away.

Despite how my eyelids droop, I manage to fix a good glare on Rachel. "The hell are you...Mmmh...Up to?" I think she might have said something, but as I adjust my sprawling pose, I quickly begin to slip off to sleep.

This does not prevent me from feeling the slender fingers taking my hand into their grasp.

Goddamned knowing, concerned vampire.


End file.
